To beleaguer an assemblage of fairies requires skill,
Manufactured from the disuse of happiness and joy.
It makes your spouse laugh and giggle forever,
With desultory tones of music to inflame you.
Comely works are held in shelter, for the force,
As ethereal figures are attached to your garden,
A graveyard or funny little town of flowers and plants.
This is evocative of musical rhythms and sounds only pleasant,
Their brains are like love, and hatred inhibits them from smiling.
Then languor and tragedy, as fairies submerge into grass,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem